


Lord, I'm Five Hundred Miles from my Home

by fannishliss



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-14
Updated: 2013-10-14
Packaged: 2017-12-28 17:59:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/994868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fannishliss/pseuds/fannishliss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last few days have been a roller coaster ride for Sam, and the urge to say, "I’m sorry" hasn't let up for a second.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lord, I'm Five Hundred Miles from my Home

**Title: Lord, I'm Five Hundred Miles from my Home**  
Author: [](http://fannishliss.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://fannishliss.livejournal.com/)**fannishliss**  
characters: Sam pov, Dean  
Rating: PG  
Spoilers:  5.1 only.  Written right before 5.2 aired.  Still fits in canon.  
Word Count: 1100  
Summary: The last few days have been a roller coaster ride for Sam, and the urge to say, "I’m sorry" hasn't let up for a second.  


The last few days have been kind of a roller coaster ride, to say the least.  A sudden emergency trip to Bobby’s, that turned out to be an impromptu detox intervention on the part of his brother and the closest thing he had left to a dad – because they thought he wasn’t strong enough to kick it on his own, and yeah, he knew they thought he was better off dead – and after what had happened, he had a hard time really arguing the point.   The door opened, and he crept out, the voices from his own subconscious ringing louder than reality in his head, and he still doesn’t know if that was really Bobby he clubbed in the yard or just one more visitation—and then he was back in the arms of his demon lover, feeding on that black liquid power, that filled him up with grandeur and convinced him he could end it, save the world, kill the villain, save his brother (weak, deluded) once and for all, and then he could sort it all out with Ruby afterwards.... then kidnapping Lilith’s chef, as Ruby so deftly called her --  a demon that served up babies, for Christ’s sake – and then having that demon suddenly slip away to reveal a pleading woman, innocent and terrified, justifiably terrified of Sam as it happened, and then he listened to the voicemail, only to hear Dean say all the things from his worst nightmares, and then he went ahead and did it – overpowered the nurse, held her down as she cried and struggled, weaker and weaker, till she was gone, the demon in her making it last what felt like forever.  Then, oh then, Sam had felt so strong, like never before, dropping the body, striding with Ruby down the hall of the convent, his heart pounding with the power that urged him so irresistably – do it, do it, DO IT.  KILL THE BITCH, DESTROY HER NOW. His hand going out, and the power in him throttling her from across the room, god, it had felt so incredible, so easy, so right.  Then just for a second, he had seemed to hear Dean, and he almost stopped, almost took a breath, almost dropped his focus.  But then Lilith laughed and he raged back into his glory, snuffing her life like a flame between thumb and forefinger, with a sizzle of spit. She dropped with a thud, like a side of beef.   Ruby had been so proud of him, so excited, so happy for him.  Then, Sam had noticed the gateway forming, the spiral seeping out of Lilith’s empty vessel, and horrified, he saw what he had done.

Since then, the urge to say, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, had not left him, not even for a second.  He’d known it was wrong, all along, like Chuck said, he had known you can’t just suck blood, but the power, too much to refuse when Dean was dead and lost to Hell and nothing left to cling to but a dream of revenge – then Dean was back but the blood was already up inside him, whispering about how Dean was so different now, changed now, weak, and why does Sam always have to take a back seat, and what do the Angels even know, not so good at stopping seals from breaking are they, too good to shake the hand of the boy with the Demon Blood, and had they known even then what he got up to with his demon under cover of darkness?  Only to save the world, only to save his brother, only to finally kill the bitch that had stolen his brother’s soul away and hung it on the rack.

But, now, his brother can hardly look at him.  God, he thought it had hurt when Bobby had lashed out at him for starting the Apocalypse – he’ll never forget what the demon had said, “this kind of thing don’t get forgiven, boy!” – but mostly he’ll never forget how Dean had tried so hard to shut him up, but after Bobby had reamed him out, how Dean had stood there so quietly, not a blessed word in Sam’s defense.

Sam had always thought that having it out was the best way forward.  And yeah, it was kind of ammunition too, if they let him at least say he was sorry, then they had to admit that he had said he was sorry – but Dean didn’t want to hear it.  Actions had always meant more to Dean, and this time was no different.   But that dead look of tired regret in Dean’s eyes was something Sam had never seen before, not directed at him.

Dean just acknowledged his empty words, and he even seemed to believe him, but it didn’t change the look on Dean’s face.  So done with it, defeated.  Sure, ready to fight to the last man, but for what?

“I would give anything to take it all back,” Sam had said; “What can I do?”

Dean had just stared at him, fatigue and pain foremost.  “Honestly? Nothing.”

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.  It kept ringing in Sam’s ears like a curse.

“I just don’t ... I don’t think that we can ever be what we were... I just don’t think I can trust you.”

And Dean had walked away from him.  Sam had stood in shock as Dean had pulled down the pillar of Sam’s existence.  Dean had always believed in Sam, feared for him, fought for him, but he was Dean’s brother.  And now?  Dean was saying Sam had foregone all that. 

Sam just stood, and couldn’t bring himself to move.  The parking lot was wet and dark and it seemed a hundred miles to the Impala right then, five hundred miles to the old leather seat where his knees were just that much too close to the dash, a thousand miles to the feel of the icy window against the side of his head as he dozed to Zeppelin down some midnight road, Dean pounding his wrists awake against the steering wheel, to the beat, defrosters blasting.

Dean just looked back at him once, then got in, and Sam couldn’t make his feet move till he heard the slam of the door.

Then, he lurched into movement, hurtled himself to his side of the car, fell in.

He would do something to make it right.  He would get back Dean’s trust.  He would, he had to.

It would all be for nothing if he lost Dean too – if he lost Dean too after losing himself.

###

   



End file.
